CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "What to do with a garden full of shoes?" Creepypasta

Episode Date: August 10, 2023

CREEPYPASTA STORY►by Michael Ramus: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comm...Creepypastas are the campfire tales of the internet. Horror stories spread through Reddit r/nosleep, forums and blogs, rather than word of mouth. Whether you believe these scary stories to be true or not is left to your own discretion and imagination. LISTEN TO CREEPYPASTAS ON THE GO-SPOTIFY► https://open.spotify.com/show/7l0iRPd...iTUNES► https://podcasts.apple.com/gb/podcast...SUGGESTED CREEPYPASTA PLAYLISTS-►"Good Places to Start"- • "I wasn't careful enough on the deep ... ►"Personal Favourites"- • "I sold my soul for a used dishwasher... ►"Written by me"- • "I've been Blind my Whole Life" Creep... ►"Long Stories"- • Long Stories FOLLOW ME ON-►Twitter: https://twitter.com/Creeps_McPasta►Instagram: https://instagram.com/creepsmcpasta/►Twitch: http://www.twitch.tv/creepsmcpasta►Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CreepsMcPastaCREEPYPASTA MUSIC/ SFX- ►http://bit.ly/Audionic ♪►http://bit.ly/Myuusic ♪►http://bit.ly/incompt ♪►http://bit.ly/EpidemicM ♪This creepypasta is for entertainment purposes only

It's late. I've had a few and I can't sleep. Tomorrow's the inquest into the death of my best mate's son. My godchild, an all-round great kid. I've got to be there to give a character statement on Carl, a friend of mine since the first day of school and his wife and whether there might have been foul play involved in Noah's death. And honestly, I don't know. I can't stop thinking about it,

replaying the story as Carl told it to me. Mostly, I can't stop thinking about the shoes. Everything I know, I know secondhand from Carl. So, I'll tell you what he told me. And maybe you could let me know what you make of it because... I just don't know. Carl was a guy I'd have trusted with my life. Last year he bought a new house with his wife, Suez.

It was never in a million years the kind of house I'd imagine Carl buying. An old tumble-down little thing, with a thatched roof in the ascent of nowhere Devon. A beautiful house, no mistaking, with wooden beams, buckets of character, acres of garden to get lost in, in a village where everyone knows everyone. Nice.

Just not very Carl. I can see what drew them though. They needed the space. Noah was fast approaching eight and his younger brother, Archie, was a five-year-old wrecking ball. Add a heavily pregnant soos and a cat into the mix and London just wasn't an option anymore.

I went to visit in the first week after moving. Everywhere was still a mess of boxes, but you could see how happy they were about the potential for the place. It wasn't without its drawbacks. The floorboards were uneven and groaned under the slightest pressure. The layout was maze-like,

and sometimes it felt like there was no knowing where a corridor was leading you before you'd somehow been turned back on your side. The thick walls made it a Wi-Fi nightmare, and the house didn't warm evenly. In fact, some areas were downright freezing. It was the tail end of a balmy summer, and I'd gone to get some more beers from the garage when I noticed that first... ...cold patch...

...hits you in the bones cold. I'd mentioned it to Carl, and he laughed. Yeah, we've noticed them. Never in the same place twice, though. You can be walking the house at any time of day or night, and it's like you've walked into the bloody Baltic. Sue's nodded in agreement. But she didn't laugh.

The weirdest one was the other night. I was the last one up watching Match other day, hadn't shifted from the armchair in a few hours, and it was like the cold spot walked in. to me. With hindsight, I don't know if any of that is relevant. It was just my first recollection of that house. The first really strange thing happened, about two days after that. I was helping Carl re-turf the garden, all these boys raced around playing a game evolving pirates. We'd been working for a few hours, where we both noticed the kids' game

had stopped, and they were both stood perfectly still, staring down at one of the flower beds. Carl shrugged, and we both went over to see what had paused their game. What struck me first was how oddly still they had both become. They didn't seem to notice the first time Carl asked. Whose shoes are those? Noah stirred the trowel in his hand. The two of them had been digging in the flower bed, and now in front of us was a hole that was nearly three feet wide and one deep, and filled with shoes. Carl stooped down to pick one up. This isn't yours, is it? He asked Noah, brandishing an old black leather shoe with an enormous buckle. Noah shook his head. Of course it wasn't his shoe. It was perhaps the right size for an hour. It was perhaps the right size for an

eight-year-old's foot, but it was far too old to belong to any of them. Carl lifted out another one, shaking the earth that filled it. Another shoe that belonged to a different time. I'm no expert, but it wouldn't have surprised me to find that either of the shoes was more than a hundred years old. Carl sent the kids inside, and together we excavated the rest of the flower bed. We found 20 pairs of shoes that day.

All of them made for children's feet. Each a different style and shape. Some poor and beaten. Some expensive and finessed. And all of them. For children.

Carl was clearly alarmed and I could see his eyes start to roam around the rest of the garden, wondering what else might be buried out there. Whatever Carl said about the shoes to soos was a conversation behind closed doors. That night, we went out to the pub and spent most of the evening reading what Google had to say about. Children's shoes buried in the garden. The suggestions ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous. Dodgy landfills, serial killer calling

cards, plague cleansing, Victorian wards that keep spirits away, fertility rituals. We took turns reading them out while we drank. It had been a good night and we'd laughed, but maybe we should have paid more attention. After that, the shoes were kept inside. They made a little display of them, tasseled together and old bits of rope

around the fireplace. Sue's thought they were quirky. In the months that followed, there were other strange things that Carl would text me about. He said, He'd got up around 4 a.m. one night needing the toilet and smelt smoke on the way back to the room. He did a once over of the house and had become convinced that the smell was coming from a freestanding pot plant in the kitchen.

It was a little shrub that they'd had for longer than they'd had Noah. After a lot of sniffing, Carl said there was no question it was coming from the plant. and when he pulled it out of the pot, saw that the entire root system was a blaze. Like the soil was full of fluorescent worms. Neither of them had any idea what could have happened, but were relieved they caught it in time, given how flammable all the old timber and thatching was.

A week or so later, they found the wasp nest. Suze was cleaning the lounge, trying to sponge out a mark on the wall, when she heard the buzzing. The spot she was sponging gave way completely, revealing a throbbing wasps nest. Carl sent me a voice message. Maddest thing, man. Don't know if you've ever seen a wasp nest.

They're a bit like beavers apparently, and that they'll carry back all sorts of material to make it. But the nest was bright red and pulsing. Sue's thought she found like some kind of organs pulsating in the wall. walls at first and wouldn't stop screaming that the house was alive. It's messed up. All good though. Exterminators yesterday and they reckon they've got them all.

Just need to keep an eye on it. Weird that nothing came up in the surveys about this though. Not like the solicitors were cheap. Then the cat went missing. First day that Noah went out to Try's new school, he came home calling for George. and ran around the whole house. But the cat was nowhere to be seen.

Big, fat old thing, not prone to long adventures, or leaving the house at all, really. A London cat that liked its creature comforts. Just... Gone. They put signs up around the village, and Noah requested that there was some kind of reward for the finder.

But... It stayed gone. On Halloween, Carl and Suez took the kids trick-or-treating around the village. They were starting to really settle into the village life and getting involved in things that they had never done in London. They come home, swag bags bulging with little chocolates to find a cat sat on the doorstep outside their house. Not George.

Nothing like George. This cat was sleek, lithe and... mean-looking as Sue's putt it. But Noah had burst into tears and immediately started hugging and kissing New George, insisting that it had to come inside and that the cat had chosen them.

What are you going to do? I laughed down the phone. I never had kids of my own and with the state of my love life it's doubtful I ever will. Oh, darn man, I don't know. Obviously, that is someone's cat, isn't it? We can't just have it.

I tried to explain this to Noah, and he said that the person can have the cat back when they come for it. And that was a week ago now. I'm just worried no nor come, and we'll be stuck with this new cat who really is a bit of an asshole. We'd laughed. And that was the last time I heard Carl laugh. Maybe we'll never hear him.

hear Carl laugh. Because the next strange thing that happened was that Noah died. Carl said that he'd been sleeping when it happened, but Suze woke him in a blind panic, not knowing exactly what was wrong, but that something had happened. They went to nose room first and saw that it was sound asleep in bed, and then went downstairs because they heard a bang. The door to the garden was wide open, and the strange black cat was prowling around near the flower beds. Carl said they never noticed this at the time, probably not until a few days later, but all the shoes around the fireplace were gone. All of no shoes were missing as well. Then they heard a little giggle coming from upstairs and ran back up to find little Archie sat in the

toilet with his trousers around his ankles. What are you doing, Arch? Suze had asked. Apparently, happy little Archie pointed down the hallway behind them and said that he wanted to join the Daisy line because it looked fun. Neither Carl or Suez understood what this meant. All the kids were arm and arm like a Daisy chain and they went dancing down the corridor. They went in and out of all the rooms.

and I missed it because I was in here, and I was laughing because they went into Noah's room and out he came. He got to join the Daisy line. Didn't look like he was having fun though. Carl told me that this was when his heart really started to race. He said that a coal patch had settled over them, over the whole corridor. Maybe it was because the leader was so mean. He had such a mean face,

even though the dance was fun. He made sure that all the children kept dancing and dancing and dancing and if they stopped he whacked their little toes with a sharp stick. And of all the questions that Carl had wanted to ask What children, what leader, what on earth are you talking about?

All he actually said was Noah before sprinting off down the corridor back to his first child's room. Maybe we can, catch up with all of them in the garden, was the last thing Suez remembers Archie saying from the toilet. Carl tore into Noah's room, and the boy was still lying in bed, just as they'd seen him the first time they'd checked. But this time, Carl went right to his bedside.

Sure enough, Noah had no pulse, his little chest no longer rising and falling. A A cold patch had settled into the room, and his cold little body, caught death or infant death, is what people keep calling it. Noah was really too old for that. But according to the doctors, sometimes these things happen. According to the doctors, this can also be exasperated by neglect, abuse or trauma from the care providers. So tomorrow is Carl's inquest to see

if either him or Seuss had a hand in this, and I don't know. They both tell anyone who will listen these stories, these strange happenings in the house, and what Archie had said about the dancing children that night. And everyone smiles and nods at these poor, broken parents, and wonders exactly what I'm feeling right now. Was there something else going on? and around this whole mess, I'm trying to help organize Noah's funeral.

Sue said that if I looked up in the attic, I'd find his little black suit that they bought him for a wedding a while back, and a little box with some smart black shoes. I found the suit, but the box was empty and the most messed up thing. is I think I know exactly where those shoes are and I can't bring myself to look